To Serve in Heaven
by indie
Summary: For Anakin Skywalker, the question has always been whether it is better to reign in Hell or serve in Heaven. Padme/Anakin.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE: To Serve in Heaven**  
**AUTHOR**: indie  
**SPOILERS:** First half of TPM  
**DISCLAIMER:** Characters and universe respectfully borrowed from George Lucas. No profit is gained from this work.  
**CHARACTERS:** Anakin Skywalker, Padme Naberrie, Typho, Obi-Wan  
**TIMELINE:** approximately same time period as Attack of the Clones, but alternate timeline

* * *

Acrid smoke burns her eyes as she cradles Cordé's lifeless form close. Yet another life lost. It's all so pointless and unfair. Cordé was so young. It's such a waste.

"You did your job. Cordé did hers. We need to leave now."

Padmé looks up through tears at the grim set of Anakin's jaw. Next to him, Typho clearly agrees with his protégé. 

Reluctantly, she nods, taking the hand Anakin offers and rising to her feet. Padmé looks back at Cordé's body one last time and then focuses her attention on doing as directed by her security detail. She follows Typho, her vision flitting from side to side as they enter the hangar. It's unlikely that a second attempt on her life will be made so soon, but not impossible.

Anakin is directly behind her, one hand at the small of her back, his fingertips barely touching her. His other hand is clenched tightly around his blaster. Moments later they are in a shuttle with Anakin behind the controls.

Anakin guides the shuttle gracefully through the high traffic air lanes. Padmé feels safe and she knows that is foolish. She may never be safe again.

* * *

He is unhappy. Ironically, she is relieved to see some things never change. Anakin was never adept at hiding his displeasure.

When Anakin arrived on Naboo two weeks ago, she was overwhelmed with how the young boy she knew had matured into an unsettlingly handsome young man. Anakin the man is far different from Anakin the boy. He is quieter, more solitary. He is slower to smile and laugh. Yet as she watches him pace the length of her living room with his long, even strides, she cannot help but be reminded of how Anakin the boy used to pace the hallways of the Naberrie household like a caged beast on those few days when weather or circumstance kept him confined indoors. Anakin Skywalker was never meant to be confined by anything.

Padmé leans against the doorjamb, watching him silently. He stops pacing and stares out the window. Absently, he bites down on his lower lip, an oddly immature gesture that tugs at Padmé's heartstrings.

"Do you disagree with Captain Typho's decision to consult the Jedi?" she asks.

He startles, visibly upset she was watching unbeknownst to him. He clasps his hands tightly behind his back, puffing out his chest and rising to his full height. 

Padmé smiles. The trappings of a man. 

She steps closer and he unconsciously steps back, maintaining the distance between them. It wounds Padmé slightly. For many years, Anakin lived in the Naberrie household – along with his mother, Shmi. Padmé has always been a bit jealous of that. For many years, he was closer to her parents than she was herself.

On Padmé's rare trips home during her terms as Queen, Anakin was her constant shadow. While he was annoying at times, she was genuinely fond of the boy and missed his companionship when she resumed her official duties. 

Those official duties, however, did finally come to an end. Unsure of her next steps, weighing a life in academia with the idea of making a run for the Senate seat, Padmé returned to her childhood home and was welcomed in by both her parents and the Skywalkers. Anakin, by then, was thirteen and much more a brooding teen than a precocious child. He had this unnerving way of watching Padmé. And then, literally overnight, he disappeared. Padmé's father, Ruwee, later informed her Captain Typho was able to secure Anakin admittance to the Naval Academy on Coruscant, with the help of Chancellor Palpatine. Since that day, she has seen Anakin rarely. It is not often he is able to make the trip from the Core to spend holidays with his mother, who still lives with the Naberries. And though they both spend the majority of their time on Coruscant, their paths do not cross.

Anakin is barely twenty, yet he has made quite a name for himself as a pilot. Padmé knows his skills are in high demand. She assumes it was a personal request from Gregar Typho, Anakin's long time mentor, that brought Anakin back to Naboo. Outfitted in the uniform of the Royal Naboo Security Forces, Padmé reluctantly admits to herself that Anakin looks quite dashing. The leather tunic is pulled tight across his chest, accentuating that though she may think of him fondly as a little boy, he is physically a man. His shirt and pants are a dark brown the same color as his boots. His hair is too long, but Padmé think it lends him a roguish charm.

"I am certain the Jedi will offer many insights," Anakin replies carefully.

Padmé gives him a wry smile, noting he did not correct her earlier statement. "Is it difficult for you?" she asks quietly. "To be around the Jedi, I mean."

He looks at the ground and then angles his eyes back up at her, smiling. "No, Senator," he says. "I was not meant to be a Jedi."

She watches him closely. "That isn't what Master Jinn thought," she says. "Nor Obi-Wan."

Anakin turns away, shrugging. "Joining the Jedi Order would have meant abandoning my mother on Tatooine, pledging myself to a life free from personal attachment."

Silence hangs in the air for several moments and he eventually turns back to face her. 

"Do you have many personal attachments?" she asks, shocked to hear the words issuing from her lips. What is she doing engaging in such a discussion with him?

He smiles, easily reading her unease, taking the opportunity to go on the offensive. "Are you asking me if I have someone in my life, Senator?" he asks, grinning broadly.

She swallows thickly, trying to muster bravado. "Yes, I suppose so."

His smile eventually fades and he shakes his head. "No."

She can almost feel his spirit withdraw, his earlier levity gone. He watches her with unreadable eyes. 

Padmé hears someone behind her and turns to face Typho.

"Senator, the Jedi have arrived."

* * *

end section


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: To Serve in Heaven  
By: indie  
Chapter 2

* * *

Obi-Wan cocks his head to the side, looking at Anakin intently as Anakin, Padmé and Typho greet the two Jedi in the foyer. "Anakin Skywalker?" he asks with a smile.

"Yes, Master Kenobi," Anakin replies, several degrees cooler than Obi-Wan.

"Ah, so good to see you," Obi-Wan replies jovially, grasping Anakin's hand in greeting. "I didn't realize you were part of Senator Amidala's security detail."

"It's a temporary arrangement," Typho interjects quickly. Padmé assumes he must be feeling overprotective of his protégé. "At the Chancellor's request. Anakin was granted emergency leave from his post with the Republic's Navy."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows shoot up, but he says nothing. He turns and smiles at Padmé. "It seems we're all concerned about your safety, Senator."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Master Kenobi," Padmé replies, "but I feel the Jedi presence here is unnecessary." She looks pointedly at Typho who meets her gaze unapologetically.

"The Chancellor obviously does not agree with your assessment, Senator," Typho offers.

"The Jedi Council, too, believes you need additional protection," Obi-Wan adds.

"She doesn't need Jedi protection," Anakin counters. "We are more than capable of protecting Senator Amidala. What she needs is the Jedi to track down Count Dooku and bring him to justice. Only that will stop these attacks."

Obi-Wan scoffs. "I'm afraid it's not possible that Count Dooku is involved in the attacks on Senator Amidala's life. Never forget, he used to be a Jedi."

"We're well aware he used to be a Jedi," Anakin counters dryly.

Obi-Wan frowns. "Senator Amidala, I was instructed by the Council to protect you, not start an investigation."

Anakin opens his mouth, no doubt to argue, but Padmé cuts him off. "Please, let's all have a seat and continue this discussion civilly."

"Of course," Obi-Wan says, grateful to delay the hostilities. 

He and the second Jedi, his Padawan, Padmé supposes, follow her into the living room and take seats. Padmé sits on the couch and Anakin sits next to her, his body tense. Obi-Wan takes a chair opposite as does his Padawan, a female Mirialan with deep blue eyes and distinctive tattoos across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

"Forgive me," Obi-Wan says, "this is Padawan Barriss Offee."

"Your apprentice?" Padmé asks Obi-Wan while nodding in acknowledgement to Barriss.

"Actually, Barriss is apprenticed to Jedi Master Luminara Unduli."

"It's good to make your acquaintance, Padawan Offee," Padmé says in greeting.

Barriss nods in reply.

"Back to our discussion," Anakin says abruptly, staring at Obi-Wan. "Investigation is implied in the Jedi mandate. If you're not here to track down Dooku, you're of no use to us."

"_Anakin,_" Typho says quietly, but firmly.

"No, dammit," Anakin continues. "I will not hold my tongue. The Jedi are so accustomed to everyone swooning in their presence that they expect these feeble excuses to pacify us. The Chancellor obviously believes there is an imminent mortal threat to Senator Amidala. The Jedi Council agrees, yet these Jedi come here and tell us they intend to resolve nothing. It's absurd."

"Anakin, I don't believe Master Kenobi intended any insult," Padmé counters, turning to face him.

As soon as she looks at him, she knows he will not soon forget this exchange. She can see his jaw muscles flex, see him fighting to remain calm. No doubt she has deeply offended him by defending Obi-Wan's actions. Yet, it had to be said. She knows Anakin has a long, sometimes bitter, history with the Jedi Order and she knows how difficult it is for him to remain impartial in his dealings with them.

"Perhaps Anakin is right, Senator," Obi-Wan offers quietly. "Perhaps there is more intended for us here than simple protection."

* * *

"You're angry with me."

"No I'm not."

She sighs and looks at him. "Anakin, do me a favor and _never_ consider a career in politics. You're not made for it."

"Because I'm not adept at lying?" he counters crossly.

She frowns. "Because you betray yourself with every word and every action."

He snorts, turning away to stare out the window. Padmé crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. He pretends not to notice.

"You're not staying in here, Anakin. This is my bedroom."

He replies without turning to face her. "And I'm your bodyguard at the Chancellor's request."

"You can guard my body quite sufficiently from the living room with Obi-Wan and Barriss."

He shudders slightly and says in a near whisper, "I don't like being near others."

"Others?" she asks, venturing closer.

He looks over at her. "Force users."

She studies him for a moment, watching the light from the window play across his face as he turns back to stare out at the traffic lanes. The hour is late and there is only a small lamp providing illumination in her bedroom, but the enormous billboards and traffic provide ample light. "I thought when you didn't join the Order that you abandoned those abilities."

Shrugging, he looks over at her again. "It's part of who I am. I can't abandon it."

Stepping closer, she looks at him, holding his gaze. "What's it like being around them?"

He looks away, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Like being around someone who knows you too well, but who is also a stranger."

"Ah," Padmé says. He turns and looks at her and she smiles. "It's like how I feel being around you."

He smiles, but it's not a light-hearted expression, though there is a certain wolfish joy to it. "I certainly hope not," he says. "Because I damn sure don't want to _know_ either of those Jedi the way I want to know you."

She blushes and turns away. It's late. While necessity has somewhat inured her to the presence of security personnel, none of them have ever succeeded in provoking her to the extent (or, if she's honest, in the same manner) as Anakin. This is a situation where she is a Senator and he is her bodyguard. It's commonplace and innocent. But it doesn't feel that way. It feels … _scandalous_. It feels like she's a woman and he's a man. A man who seems to want to make no pretense of his attraction to her. 

She's a Senator and as such, is usually afforded a great deal of respect. Anakin respects her, she knows that. But unlike most other people, he doesn't treat her as if she is interchangeable with her office. He never fails to make her feel like a woman – to make her feel desirable, even when that feeling is decidedly uncomfortable.

She pushes these thoughts away. These are not things she can afford to be thinking. Especially not now.

"You already know me, Anakin," she says abruptly. "You've known me for years."

"Not well enough."

She looks at him and frowns. "You need to leave. I need to change for bed."

The look he gives her is unmistakably predatory. "Go ahead and change. Your dad can't send me away this time."

She cocks her head at him. "What?"

He smirks. "You didn't know?" When she shakes her head, he laughs. "That's how my illustrious naval career started. When you returned to your parents home after you stepped down as Queen but before your Senatorial career … He caught me peeking in your bedroom window. The next morning, I was in the Naval Academy."

Her jaw drops and she stares at him. "My father sent you away for spying on me?"

He shrugs. "Well, he was fair about it," he admits. "He gave me a choice. I could stop watching you, or I could leave."

She grimaces and gives him a pained look. "And it was worth it to you to leave?"

He smiles. "I wasn't going to stop looking. I was thirteen."

"It's so nice to see that you've matured," she says wearily.

He rakes his gaze over her body. "You too," he says with a wink.

"Oh … my … " she makes a strangled noise and grabs one of the pillows off her bed and throws it at him. "Get out of here right now!"

He laughs, but grudgingly complies. "Sleep well, Senator."

End Section


End file.
